


Sounds

by cokecola



Category: The Quiet - Troye Sivan (Song)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Anxiety, Based On a Troye Sivan Song, Break Up, Depression, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Inspired by Real Events, Introspective Characters, No Dialogue, Open to Interpretation, Original Character(s), References to Depression, Songfic, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26093098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cokecola/pseuds/cokecola
Summary: "Growing distance from your explanationsWe're getting deeper in this messTake careful contemplationI'd rather be spitting bloodThan have this silence fuck me up"— Troye Sivan, The Quiet (Blue Neighborhood)It had been too long since they had last talked, and the silence was unbearable.
Relationships: Undisclosed Relationship(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	Sounds

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know how much of this is a simple songfic and how much is me projecting onto the main character, but here you go! this is just over a thousand words of pure angst. hope you enjoy!
> 
> (goes without saying but listen to the quiet by troye sivan while you read for maximum effect)
> 
> note that the characters don't have names or much of a personality outside of this scene. that's on purpose. it's supposed to be an introspective story about processing pain and situations like that. the lover's gender is undefined on purpose too! now, please enjoy.

It had been three weeks already since they had last talked to each other, and with each passing minute the silence seemed to become bigger, thicker, almost as if it could swallow them whole. Each of them had retreated into their worlds, cutting the thread that'd been wrapping around them for so long. There was no big discussion, no impactful event, nothing but the growing distance that burned quietly without them realizing it. No fight at all, only... Quiet. One day, as if decided by fate, they had both silently decided that this wasn't worth it anymore. And so they stopped.

But it took no longer than a few days before the silence was unbearable. It surfaced thoughts, emotions that wouldn't dare to come out at other times. They slowly distanced themselves from everything around them, their friends, themselves; each day a new brick in the wall that trapped them in their minds until it felt claustrophobic. After weeks, they weren’t even alive anymore — just barely surviving as their voices were no more than faint whispers into the void.

It had been three weeks now. Twenty-one days. Five hundred and four hours, to be exact. And at this point, he was counting the seconds. There was nothing that could be done anymore. Nothing he knew of.

He'd cried. He’d thought about it all and grasped each detail, trying to understand what had happened, looking for a way out of this room. He’d felt it pierce him like glass when realization first hit, and then he’d cried so hard and so loud it was all there was around him; the pain of knowing there’s something you can’t change. He’d cried until there was no point in crying anymore, the feelings washed out by so many tears and so many thoughts that they blurred together into a grey mass that no longer made any sense to him. And so he’d stopped crying one day, stopped trying to make sense of his thoughts; he let himself blur into the same mass, drowning in the silence left around.

Five hundred and five hours.

He knew there was something he was supposed to do, that standing there was probably not the best way. _Not what they’d want,_ he thought, then cursed himself for even thinking it. There should still be a way out, but he was too weak to consider it, too deep in the dark room surrounded by hard bricks he had in his mind to move anywhere, even if he tried.

But he had to try, and so he gripped the side of the bed in an effort to get up, hoping his legs wouldn’t fail him this time. He had a faint idea of how long he’d been sitting on the floor, back against the mattress, legs folded; but time didn’t make any sense now. It was an endless spiral that turned and twisted in every possible direction, so slow and so quick at once that he got dizzy trying to untangle it. His knees could no longer hold him up too well, he knew that. It had been too long. It felt like no time had passed at all.

His legs did fail him. Just like his heart had. Because even after all that had — and what hadn’t — happened, the now dry tears on his face could tell no lies as he slipped back into the same position, hips bumping the bed. He was still in love, his heart tearing with how much he needed that love back, still willing to do whatever it took if he saw even the tiniest spark of hope. But the lights were out, and the silence was so loud that he just couldn’t see any chance.

Five hundred and six hours.

There was no point in trying to project a picture in his mind and see what could’ve gone different, yet he couldn’t help but do just that. Maybe it was never supposed to have started, so they would never have met. Or they would, but then something would still go another way and their paths would stray from each other sooner… Maybe they should’ve ended it at some earlier point, and then this feeling wouldn’t be so bad.

It was a car race in his mind, thoughts rushing through his brain with loud noises, giving him a headache. There were no answers, just loud questions, and stupid thoughts that he wished he had the energy to fight. He hated being like this, hated not knowing the truth, hated drowning all alone because he’d pushed everyone away, and he especially hated not knowing how they were doing right now — oh, how he cursed himself for even wanting to know. He hated being curious, too.

But how was it so loud and so silent at the same time? He couldn't stand it anymore, the empty echos, silent screams ringing in his ears — it felt so _fake._ Not a single sound reached him. Nothing felt real; not the street outside of his building or his next-door neighbors. Nothing felt good, but nothing felt bad either, as if all emotion had been removed from things. And it had because they had taken it. His heart was no longer with him, and he sat completely numb to everything around. Wishing that one day the pain would go away. Hoping that they could still be together. That they could have sound again. Together.

Five hundred and seven hours.

A low muffled buzz somewhere in the room. The closest thing to sound in at least one week, since his friends had stopped calling — he ignored those sounds, choosing to drown on his own, knowing they couldn't save him. Now, this was the first thing that made him raise his eyes and look around, in longer than he would ever like to admit. Maybe too long. His room was a mess.

No, that's an understatement. Since he had no energy to put things in place, it all ended up piled up for weeks — dirty dishes on the desk, next to a laptop; the sheets on his bed mixing up with old clothes he wouldn't wash for so long and those on top of the clean ones he hadn't put away. He could barely make out the scattered items, and he frowned at how it reflected his own mind; not one thought in its place, not a logical string that he could make out right now. It hurt to admit that he'd got to this point, that he'd muted himself and unsaturated the world around him. And now his phone was ringing, unless that had been his imagination.

He forced himself to get up now, to stand on his feet, fighting the dizziness to look for the source of the vibrations. His phone was nowhere to be seen. He couldn't remember the last time he'd even used it.

Another buzz and now he started wondering what it might be. Who would be calling after all this time, after everyone had given up on him? Clenched his heart, wishing it would be them. That the silence would finally be broken, that he'd have sound again. It seemed almost impossible, but it's what gave him the strength to start moving his feet, fingers gripping the side of the bed. It couldn't be so far. He pulled the blankets off the bed, shaking the pillows before throwing them to the side. His heart pumping faster at the sudden rush of hope.

And there it was, nearly falling off the bed, the screen turned down. He reached for the device, hoping for the right messages to pop up. It lit up, the light too bright on his eyes, and he blinked to clear his vision as it flashed two text message notifications.

"Please"  
"I hate you, but if I was away from you I'd fall apart."

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry if this hurts hhh follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/softlydrunk) if you'd like, i'm usually online and my dms are open! thanks for reading!!


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